Control
by ImpalaLove
Summary: Loose tag to 9x03. Abaddon wasn't kidding when she said Dean would make the perfect vessel.
1. Chapter 1

**Loose tag to 9x03 where Abaddon threatens to possess Dean. Definitely AU though. Be warned, I don't think I've written a happy story yet. This is no exception. Seriously, if you don't like angst, STEER CLEAR. **

**Dean POV** **  
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All it took was one quick swipe of her nails across my collarbone and the devil's trap tattoo was shredded; useless. The pain barely registered. She wasted no time taking control, her writhing mass of black smoke leaving the taste of death in my mouth. Abaddon cut off my scream before it escaped my lips completely, lodging herself comfortably into every crevice of my mind, making us one in the same. My silent screams went unheard, my own mouth laughing cruelly instead.

I lost count of the days, the number of people she killed with my hands, but their screams stayed trapped in my head and she played them on repeat, just to feel me writhe in agony inside my own body. I scratched furiously at the bars of the cage she had built in my head, fought with everything I had, but the nightmare didn't end and control never returned to me.

And then she went after Sammy.

It had to have been months by now, but it felt like years. I'd switched tactics, slowly making a small dent in the wall between my mind and body, scratching at it just a little bit every day. Anything beyond that was exhausting. But finally, it paid off. It took everything I had not to shout my victory when I finally started to feel my vocal cords again. It was even harder to hold back once I had regained the feeling in my toes and fingers. I itched for some holy water, a gun, anything to slow her down. But there was no guarantee as to how long I could repossess my body, and I didn't want her to know I had gained even that small amount of ground. I would have to wait for the right moment. The moment I knew I could actually kill her.

And I found that as much as I wanted to stop her, what little hold I had was lost when she was killing. Her movements were so sure, her pleasure so tangible, it was sickening. And impossible to prevent. And after a while, I couldn't watch anymore.

So instead, I learned to tune her out most of the time; to burrow deep within my own thoughts so I wouldn't have to feel it every time she used my hands to tear apart her screaming prey. It was selfish maybe, but it was the only way to keep myself from going completely insane...if it wasn't too late already.

I would sift through old memories of long road trips with Dad and playing catch with Bobby and Sam Sam Sam, humming Metallica even as Abaddon tried to replace my slideshow with gory, detailed replays of her latest kill. After a while, I got better and better at blocking her out. After a while, I started to forget how to climb back out of my own memories. And after a while, I really didn't want to.

But when she used my lips to form my little brother's name, poisoning it with a mocking laugh, I finally started to pull away from the memories and forced myself to push back up to the surface, trying to realign myself with the present.

I broke through just in time to feel myself deliver a solid kick to someone's gut. Finding my eyes, I almost wished I hadn't. Sam was lying beneath me, face battered almost beyond recognition, a thick pool of red surrounding him. And he was screaming my name.

"Fight it Dean, you need to fight this!" he shouted, blood escaping his lips more often than the words themselves. I struggled to find my limbs, to regain some of the control I'd been able to find once, horrified when Abaddon struck out once more against my will, catching Sam in the cheek. I felt his jaw crack beneath my fist on the next few punches, even as I screamed my unheard defiance. I slammed hard against the walls of my own body, desperately looking for a weak spot, any kind of crack or crevice in Abaddon's impenetrable barrier.

And finally, finally I found it. One more slam against the wall and I could once again feel my fingers flexing. I finally had control. Abaddon's disbelieving shriek of rage rocketed through my body but couldn't find its way out from my mouth. I wouldn't let it. She continued to scream inside my head, pounding relentlessly against the wall I'd hastily rebuilt to keep her locked down. I knew I didn't have long.

Sam still lay at my feet, his eyes glazed over, but still conscious, pulling in sharp, pained breaths.

"I'm sorry Sammy." I risked some of my limited control on the words, needing him to hear them.

"Dean?" he whispered, his eyes widening. He smiled back at me, showing bloody teeth. "Knew you were still in there somewhere."

I returned his smile, stepping away from him and reaching for Samuel Colt's gun- the gun he'd somehow managed to get a hold of after all this time. _Only Sammy._ It had been knocked from his hand at some point during the fight, but I didn't waste time trying to remember exactly when. I didn't need those memories to add to the rest.

"No Dean!" Sam yelled when he saw the gun grasped in my hand. His eyes were no longer glazed over, now overflowing with tears instead as he pleaded with me.

I just smiled and shook my head.

"Already dead Sammy," I said, thinking back on all the destruction Abaddon had wreaked upon the world using my body. _All the people I had let die at my hands..._

It was true, I was dead long before I pulled the trigger.

_BANG._

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**I really need to stop "killing" Dean. Sorry. Leave a review if you have time, even if it's just to yell at me because trust me, I'm mad at me too. Let me know if you want to see Sam's POV too. **

**Sidenote: I wrote this a while ago and at this point I'm pretty sure we know that the Colt wouldn't actually kill Abaddon, but for the purposes of this story, we'll just say that it would. I apologize for the inaccuracy. **


	2. Chapter 2

**Here's Sam's POV, as promised! Enjoy...or cry...or both.**

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Four months.

Four months with coffee the only thing left to fuel my bloodstream, body weighed down with defeat and a fatigue only present in those who cannot shut their eyes for more than a few hours at a time. Rest wasn't in the cards for me, wasn't an option for as long as Dean's steady breathing was absent from the bed beside my own. His vacancy was a gaping hole, a pit of despair that I tried my damnedest not to fall into because he _needed_ me. Needed me to find him and to fix this. Needed me to bring him home.

But still it took too goddamn long. Four months. Abaddon had been possessing my brother for _four months_ by the time I caught up to them, somewhere in eastern Kansas. It had to be Kansas of all places.

And then he was there, right there in front of me, but I couldn't rejoice yet because he was still a prisoner, still trapped within his own skin. I knew instantly, there was no hint of my brother's presence in the vicious smile that pulled at his mouth when he saw me, nor in the voice that flowed from it.

"Heya Sammy," it said, that sickening grin still plastered onto the face I thought I knew so well. But she continued to grin, twisting my brother's features almost beyond recognition, letting black liquid smoke bleed into his brilliant green eyes as I watchedhim walk towards me.

"Dean?" I tried anyway, "Dean are you in there?"

I got a fist to the face for an answer. It sent me off my feet, though I had been expecting it. Dean (no, Abaddon) was upon me in seconds, his (her) blows coming faster than I could block. It was a sickening kind of symmetry. Each punch served as a searing reminder of a time when it had been _my_ fists beating down upon my own brother. No control. No way to stop it. I knew what that felt like. And I had never wanted Dean to have to face this same torment.

"Oh Sam," she grinned, her black eyes glinting devilishly, "Dean's not available at the moment. Try again later."

I continued to scream his name anyway, needing him to know that I was here. Praying that there was still a part of him left to find. A swift kick to the gut left me reeling, gasping for air as I attempted to roll away from the next blow.

"Fight it Dean, you need to fight this!" I tried again, even as his strong arms lifted me back onto my knees, only to strike out again. _Please come back to me._

And when I felt my jaw crack apart with the next few punches, it wasn't the physical pain that registered first._ I lost my brother. I really lost him this time_. Everything was numb and the world tilted and blurred before me, but I still managed to hold onto consciousness through determination alone. I wanted to be here until the end, just in case I was wrong and he wasn't gone yet. Because if there was one thing I knew, it was that Dean wouldn't give in. He wouldn't just lay down and die. He wouldn't. There had to be some part of my big brother still locked inside his own body, still fighting for control. And so I stayed awake and I tried to stay alive, did my best to block out the pain and keep my eyes open. Just in case Dean could still be reached. Still be saved. I had failed him so many times before, in so many ways. But I would not fail him now. Could not leave him to suffer this agony alone.

Dean's name was the only word I could remember how to say, so I forced it out again and again through cracked lips, spewing blood onto concrete, waiting for it all to be over. Instead, the blows stopped coming.

Dean's...Abaddon's hold on me was suddenly gone, his (her?) bloody knuckles loosening their grip on the collar of my shirt. I slumped to the ground, eyes still cracked open, never leaving my brother's face.

"I'm sorry Sammy," Dean said. _Thank God. Thank God you came back to me_. It was him, really him. I could tell even through the thick haze that clouded my thoughts, even through the muddy darkness that drove his face into the shadows. I could hear it in the way his voice cracked with raw emotion, regret. Guilt. I saw pain _(and green, bright green)_ replace the deadness in his eyes, watched as my brother came back to me after four months of what I could only imagine to be worse than Hell. Even so, even through the array of emotions that flickered across his features, _this_ was the response I had been praying for. _My brother was here. My brother was still fighting for me. _

"Dean?" I whispered, the sting of salted tears pooling onto bloody lips. "Knew you were still in there somewhere."

I smiled up at him. It was painful and lopsided considering my shattered jaw, blood caked into every line and crevice, but Dean still smiled back, his eyes brimming as he turned to reach for something I couldn't see. _Oh please let that be the first aid kit. I need it right about now, _I thought, mind still dazed.

It wasn't.

It was the Colt. The Colt I'd managed to finally get my hands on after weeks of searching, researching, not sleeping. The gun I had tracked down, knowing it was the only thing that would kill Abaddon once I'd forced her out of my brother's body. But only _after_ she'd left his body. _Only after..._

"No Dean!" I screamed, watching helplessly from the ground as he raised the gun to his head, still smiling down at me. I tried to push past the darkness that still pulled firmly at the edges of my vision, struggling to stand, _to stop him. _

"Already dead, Sammy," he said, a lone tear escaping the eyes always so filled with life, with light. The eyes that crinkled slightly at the corners and told me everything would be okay, even if I knew it was a lie. And this. This was the worst lie he'd ever told.

The gunshot echoed out into the night, followed closely by my shattered screams.

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**Yup. So that's it. Thanks for reading, as always. Reviews are golden. Stay golden. All that good stuff. **


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